


golden slumbers

by ameliafuckingshepherd



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Mutual Pining, New Orleans, Parent Natasha Romanov, Parent Steve Rogers, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Undercover Missions, Undercover Natasha Romanov, Undercover as Married, romanogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2019-11-09 01:07:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17991920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameliafuckingshepherd/pseuds/ameliafuckingshepherd
Summary: Enhanced child victim to scientific experiment? rescued.Natasha and Steve? babysitters.Hotel? trivago.





	1. day one

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was inspired by 'picture perfect lies' why OneHarlowPierce on ff net! go check their writing out :) https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11733657/1/Picture-Perfect-Lies
> 
> I know that they would probably be stationed in a house in DC to be close to SHIELD hq, but I love the vibes of historical new Orleans. I've been dying to write something set in Louisiana. SO much of this fic wouldn't work in canon, but I just wrote it for fun.

Natasha was shocked. No, she was furious. Fury had gone and gotten himself another mutant baby, and now he wanted Natasha and Rogers to go live with it until they took down the organization that had made this kid in the first place. When they had been called into Fury’s office, they were glad because it meant they could go on a solo mission together. They never did that anymore. Natasha was excited to spend some quality time with her friend, killing bad guys. 

But instead of “go get rid of a HYDRA base” or “go take out a threat to SHIELD”, it was “go live in Louisiana and take care of this baby while the rest of us get to do real superhero stuff”. Those weren’t his exact words, but still. After a lot of arguing and “are you fucking kidding me, Fury?”s and “I’m an avenger, not a damn babysitter!”s, everyone realized that Fury was not going to budge on this. 

“You two are my best agents, Avengers Initiative be damned. We have a good house set up for you in New Orleans. It’s right on the bayous, good neighborhood, good neighbors. We’ll have several Agents stationed around you discretely. Don’t disappoint me.” 

And that was that. Natasha, still a little shell shocked (they both were) went to pack a bag. She threw in dresses and heels without much thought, knowing there would be closets full of clothes at the safe house. She was going to assume that identity of Hillary Mesa, a stay at home mom, while Steve would turn into Aaron Mesa, her husband and a CEO at a company working with renewable energy. The kid, a little girl, had been in a bassinette labeled “Romana” when the Russian field agents found her, and they decided it would be easiest to continue calling her that. Romana Mesa had a nice ring to it, anyway. Fury had suggested that Natasha dye her hair, but backed off when she threw him a death glare, subconsciously touching the flaming red hair cascading past her shoulders. She would _never_ be a blonde. 

In three hours, Natasha and Steve (Hillary and Aaron) were on a first class flight to Louisiana, the baby sleeping on Natasha’s chest. They had bickered the whole way there about the right way to hold the child, the right way to talk to her, the right way to change a diaper, and everything in between. Natasha had been trained at the Red Room to take care of kids, so she could be whatever she needed to be whenever she needed to be it. Plus, she spent so much time around Clint’s kids that parenting was like a deeply buried twelfth nature, behind everything else she was good at. Steve, on the other hand, had much more experience with children but still had no idea what to do with them. He thought he was right and Natasha was wrong. Natasha thought she was right and he was wrong. Finally, they agreed that while they were in public, Natasha would put on the image of stay at home mom, but while they were in private Steve could take care of Romana all he wanted. It’s not like they were going to admit it, but the little rosy cheeks and alert blue eyes and dusting of brown hair were starting to grow on them already. 

Thankfully, Romana didn’t cry much during the short flight. She was only eight months old and was content sleeping in Natasha's arms or looking around the plane. When they finally landed, Steve reached above to get their suitcases, not wanting Natasha to disturb the child. Hill had left them clothes to wear on the trip, clothing Natasha in a floral tea skirt and white bouse, while Steve got to be all practical in slacks and a sweater. Natasha bounced Romana slightly when she began to cry, and they hurried off the plane. 

“Well Rogers, how to do you like being a dad?” Natasha smirked as Steve came out of the bathroom after changing Romana’s diaper. They had been on the way to the car Fury hired to take them to their house when they noticed a vile smell coming from the child. 

“It’s...stinky. Here,” he said, handing her back to Natasha. 

The drive was short, and after three and a half hours of travel, they arrived at a white, columned, three-story house in a gated suburb. The whole place was shrouded in willow trees and old fashioned street lamps, the road made out of bricks. It was cute. They unloaded their bags and went walked up the driveway, Natasha still cradling Romana against her chest. A few kids rode their bikes in the culdesac, a few people mowing lawns or sipping lemonade on their porches, but everyone stopped to look at their new neighbors. 

“Kiss my cheek and laugh at something I said. You look like a robot,” Natasha muttered through a smile. Steve followed her instructions, pausing on the porch to add another kiss to Romana’s head. She giggled, burying her little face in Natasha’s shoulder. The baby was small for her age, but developmentally mature. Helen Cho did the initial exam when Romana arrived at the compound, taking DNA and blood samples to determine whether she was enhanced for not. The child had been given some sort of serum, Helen reported, but the exact breakdown was still being analyzed in the lab. She could already pull herself to a standing position and walk with assistance, eat solids, and babble certain words, in her own baby way. Because of this accelerated development, they decided to tell anyone who asked that she was already a year old. It would look suspicious in an eight-month-old could do all the things an older baby might be able to. 

Steve unlocked the door, allowing light to spill into the huge house. The interior was vintage but open and bright. A long hallway cut the bottom story in half, a huge living room on one side of the door and a kitchen with a bar on the other. The dining room was connected to the kitchen through a large, arched doorway. Farther back there were two bathrooms, a sunroom, and a door leading to the back patio. There were a gazebo and a dock out into the bayous, bright green grass, and a swing hanging from the canopy of a huge willow tree. Natasha, still with Romana settled on her hip, began the trek up the large staircase. Upstairs, there were five bedrooms and three bathrooms. One of the rooms was a nursery decorated with pale greens and whites, mobiles of fake leaves and a large bay window overlooking the backyard. Natasha’s room was painted two walls red, two walls white, a large canopy bed settled in the center of the room. What she assumed was Steve’s room was painted blue, with an American flag hanging above the bed. She chuckled a little at that, making a mental note to thank Fury for that touch. The other two were identical guest rooms. Natasha allowed Romana to climb the stairs on her own, gripping both her little hands. The third story was a second living room, a much cozier one. Less for show. Completed with a flatscreen TV, shag carpets, and an L shaped curved couch, Natasha knew this is where they would be spending most of their time to avoid the gazes of their nosy neighbors.

Romana toddled over to the window seat across from the stairs, Natasha smiling in amusement as she followed the baby. Natasha lifted her to stand on the window seat with her little black shoes. Romana put her hands up to the glass, babbled and pointed to the gazebo. 

“Do you want to go outside,” Natasha questioned. 

In response, Romana sat down and tried to get off the seat. Natasha swept her up into her arms. “Come on, let’s go find daddy and check-in. maybe we’ll go out after that.” 

She felt so strange referring to Steve as this child’s father, but Romana was learning hot to talk, and she could ‘t call Steve Steve, or Cap, or Aaron, or whatever else she might end up staying. Natasha’s stomach did a little flip when she realized this would mean Romana would call her mom. They made it down the stairs together, Natasha’s heels making loud noises against the wooden boards. It was going to be hard to sneak around this place while wearing shoes. 

“Hey, Rogers, just looked around upstairs. Should we go out to get dinner or something? I don’t think Fury really left us anything to eat,” Natasha called through the house. 

“Are you sure we should go out?”

Natasha found him unpacking books onto half-empty shelves. All she had brought for entertainment was her laptop and her phone. “I think it’s fine. It’s going to look strange if we don’t get out of the house at some point. Besides, we can stop at the grocery store on the way back. We need food.”

They eventually decided on going to a fancy pizza place twenty minutes away. There was a BMW SUV in the driveway, car seat already installed. Steve changed Romana’s clothes to a sage green linen dress with a little white collar. It was cute, and it seemed that Romana’s assigned color was green. Natasha has noticed that with children, the adults around them seem to pick up on one color for their child. Their room is that color, their clothes are that color, and soon enough the kid likes that color more than their parents do. Natasha and Steve locked the door behind them, nearly to the car when two women approached them. 

“Hello, I’m Jackie, and this is my wife, Lisa! You’re the new neighbors, right?” Jackie stuck out her hand, and Steve shook it, sending a sideways glance to Natasha. Natasha shifted Romana in her arms and squeezed Steve’s shoulder in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. 

“Yes, we are. My husband Aaron and I just moved from DC with our daughter, Romana.” Natasha replied sweetly, smiling. 

“That sounds lovely!” Lisa said (in the fake way that people say things when they don't really care, but want to seem like they care anyway).

“Oh, it is, we’re so excited to be here! Anyways, we’re about to go off to dinner. See you another time, Jackie! Bye Lisa!” Natasha pulled Steve along with her to the car, unlocking the door. 

“Wait, I don’t think I got your name,” Jackie called from behind them.

“I’m Hillary, Hillary Mesa.” Lies, lies, lies. Natasha set Romana gently down in the seat, bucking her into the harness before walking around to get in the passenger side of the car. “Have a good night!”

“You think they’re just neighbors, not HYDRA, not anything else?” Steve asked, buckling his seat belt and backing out of the driveway. 

“They seem harmless,” Natasha responded, turning around to check that Romana was still buckled securely. She was entranced with the mirror on Steve’s headrest, reaching her hang up in an attempt to touch it. Natasha smiled softly.

“She’s pretty cute, I’ll admit that much,” Steve said, glancing back at the baby.

“Yeah,” Natasha said softly. 

They got back to the house at nine thirty, trunk full of groceries. Romana slept soundly in her car seat, having already fallen asleep against Natasha in the restaurant, then in the sling strapped to Steve’s torso in the grocery store while they shopped. Steve, careful not to wake her, took her out of the car and upstairs while Natasha carried three bags of food into the house. When she was finally done putting it all away, Steve had put Romana to sleep.

“What a day,” he sighed, collapsing into a stool by the bar. 

“Amen to that, captain,” Natasha responded.

“We need to read the files Maria sent over earlier. We need to look at the lab samples and call Stark and google how to take care of a baby.”

“First of all, we don’t need to google it. Fury sent us with a parenting for dummies book. I don’t know if I should be insulted or thankful. Secondly, let’s leave all that for tomorrow. I’m tired. You’re practically falling asleep on your hand,” (Steve interrupted with an indignant, ‘no I’m not!’ before sitting up straighter) “let’s just go to bed and deal with everything else in the morning.”

Steve agreed grudgingly and followed Natasha upstairs. He split off to take a shower, so Natasha opened her laptop and checked for any communication from Fury. There was an email from Pepper that said "I'm dying to come over, Romana is just too cute! maybe I can talk to Tony about visiting...have fun you two! love, Pepper" and another from Clint reading "behave yourselves way out there in croc land. or alligator land. I don't know the difference. promise to facetime us (as in the team, we miss you guys already) every day. I want superbaby to know who we are. -clint". Natasha typed back responses to her two friends, sending an update to Hill and Fury as well. It was ten when she heard the water turn off, ten fifteen when she heard Steve settle into his bed and shut off the light. Her phone buzzed, displaying a text from the soldier: "goodnight romanoff" she replied, "night capsicle. sleep tight. don't let the bedbugs bite". then, as an afterthought, "we're going to kick ass at this whole baby thing. we can do this :)" She set her phone on the bedside table and watched as the moon rose, a smile on her face. Maybe this won't be so terrible, after all.


	2. day two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this turned out lowkey weird and im way too impatient to write a true slow burn, so this will be a "i put these cookies in the oven five minutes ago and somehow they're already burnt to a crisp" fic

To say Romana slept restlessly was an understatement. Screaming sobs awoke both Natasha and Steve at three am. They fed her, changed her, rocked her, sang to her, even resorted to the parenting self-help book Fury left them, and nothing worked. Cut to five am, and they had both given up on sleep. Romana was in Steve's arms, still wailing quietly while Natasha put on a pot of coffee downstairs. For the first time in two hours, the house felt quiet.

Maybe she was crazy, thinking they could do this. In the less than twenty-four hours they’ve had Romana, things had been disastrous. Maybe she’s being a little dramatic, but she got four hours of sleep last night. Of course she’s going to be a little bit pissy. She yawned and poured a cup of coffee, taking a gun out of a drawer and tucking it into the belt of her robe. They agreed that they would be armed at all times, hide guns all around the house, and always be on alert in case something happened. It was to keep Romana safe. Natasha chugged the cup of coffee before pouring another to take up to Steve. Romana was still crying, a bit softer now. The front of her footed captain America pajamas were soaked with tears dripping off her little chin. The pajamas had been one of the several pairs hanging in the closet, along with a little fuzzy onesie with an arc reactor on the chest, a set of pants and a shirt patterned with arrows, and a few others. Natasha had chuckled a little at the avengers themed outfits. They were cute. 

“Let’s try taking her on a walk. That’s supposed to work on kids, right?” Steve suggested, and Natasha agreed. She was willing to try anything. Ten minutes later and Natasha was dressed in running leggings and a loose tshirt while Steve wore a white shirt and shorts. It was hot out, already seventy degrees despite being early in the morning. Southern summer weather was unforgiving. 

They tried to put Romana in her stroller, but she only screamed louder, hands reaching up to Natasha. Natasha quickly picked her up and shushed her, rocking her slightly, desperate for the baby to stop crying. At this rate, she was going to wake the whole street. The sun was rising, casting an orange-pink glow over the neighborhood. Dogs barked, cars of early morning commuters revving through the city of New Orleans. They walked hand in hand (they were supposed to be married, after all), talking quietly. They hardly even noticed that Romana was asleep until they stopped talking for a moment, only to be greeted by silence. The baby’s arms were looped around Natasha’s neck, her face pressed into Natasha’s chest. Steve smiled, taking a picture with his phone. 

“It looks like she’s really your daughter,” he says softly, hand ghosting over Romana’s head. 

“We’ve only had her a day and it feels like she’s ours,” Natasha murmured, half to herself. She didn’t need to look up to know that Steve nodded in agreement. 

They started the walk back, careful not to wake Romana. The street was scattered with more people now, cars rumbling past, a few airplanes streaking the sky above with white. They’ve made it to the lawn, almost inside, when a man walking his poodle down the street pauses. Natasha and Steve both tense, stealthily reaching for the guns hidden in their waistbands.

“Rough night?”

“She woke up at three and hasn’t fallen back asleep until now,” Steve responded. 

“I’ve got one of my own, a little boy. He’s two I’ve found that taking them on drives puts them to sleep pretty fast. Try it sometime.” He smiled and kept walking. 

Steve put his arm around her and led them to the door. Once inside, he locked every lock the house had. Natasha didn’t argue but settled into the rocker in the living room with Romana. She turned on the TV to househunters and muted it, putting on subtitles. The next time Steve went into the living room, they were both fast asleep. He took a few more pictures and texted them to Fury, giving him a status update. Then he got dressed for “work”, where he would go to the SHIELD field office in the city. He was slightly jealous that Nat practically got a paid vacation, though he knew taking care of a baby all was no easy task.

He woke them up an hour later, telling a half-awake Natasha that he was off to work before planting a kiss on both their foreheads. Natasha smiled sleepily before murmuring ‘bye capsicle’ and dropping back off to sleep.

At eight am, Romana awoke Nat by crying loudly. Natasha stood up and tried to get Romana to stand on her own, but the child refused, clinging to Natasha’s chest.

“Okay, then you have to come upstairs with me. Mama needs to get dressed,” She told Romana. She didn’t show why she’s talking at all, it’s not like she’s going to respond. 

natasha climbed the seemingly endless staircase, at last reaching her room and setting Romana on her bed. The baby crawled to the headboard and began playing with the sheer canopy draping off the metal framework. Natasha hardly trusted herself to turn away, worried something would happen, but she needed to put some real clothes on. She found black slacks and a tan blazer and called it good enough. Next was dressing Romana, a seemingly easy task, right?

Wrong! Romana seemed to hate the texture of every fabric Natasha tried to put on her. Finally, Natasha wrestled her into a dark blue romper with tiny white stars. 

“Come on, kid, I’m helping you out here!” Natasha begged after five more minutes of trying to put on a pair of white socks. Oddly enough, Romana seemed to hear her distressed tone and stayed still on the changing table. Natasha frowned. “You can’t understand me, can you? I'm going crazy, of course you can’t. You’re, like, two weeks old.”

She could swear Romana looked indignant. She was ming things up. Sure, she was developing slightly faster than most kids, but there’s no way she could already understand English. The only words she could speak were cold, hungry, and help. It broke Natasha’s heart that those were the only things she needed to say back at that lab in Russia. No child should be treated like a piece of data. Natasha shook off the thought and picked Romana back up, heading back downstairs. 

Throughout the morning, Natasha couldn’t help but wonder about Romana’s past as she made breakfast and clicked through her files. She had been found at an empty, unlabeled lab in rural Russia. She was healthy, fed, and physically stable when the agents found her. Almost as soon as Helen Cho got her hands on Romana, she knew she was enhanced. Based on weight and side, she was only eight months old, but developmentally she was much further along. They discovered robotic implants in her legs and in the back of her neck, crudely sewn into her skin. It made Natasha sick.

“Where did you come from, malyshka? Who did this to you?” Natasha wondered aloud, watching Romana play with a nesting doll on the kitchen floor. 

Romana didn’t answer, just threw the smallest doll on the floor and cackled. Natasha smiled and shut her laptop, opening the refrigerator. She should cook some meals in advance. Is that something stay at home moms do? She was never meant for this life.

She was about halfway through making a lasagna (supposedly the best food to make in advance, according to the internet) when the doorbell rang. She grabbed a handgun off the counter, clicking off the safety and tucking it into her waistband as she picked up Romana. Romana protested, reaching for the nesting doll. Natasha hushed her, pressing the baby’s back close to her. Through the frosted glass panels of the door, Natasha could make out the shape of two women, the first around five four and about one hundred and twenty pounds, and the second much shorter, the height of an eight-year-old child, if she had to guess. 

“Hold on to me, Roma, mama needs to get her gun,” Natasha whispered. The baby’s arms tightened around her neck, almost like she knew what Natasha had asked. But that was silly, it had to be a coincidence. Natasha opened the door with one hand, reaching behind her back to brush a hand against her gun. 

“Hi! I’m Beverly, and this is my daughter, Cassandra!” The taller woman said. “We saw you move in and baked some cookies. As a welcome present.” 

Natasha immediately relaxed. Just another harmless set of neighbors. “That’s very kind of you. I’m Hillary Mesa, and this is my daughter, Romana.” after an awkward pause, she continues on, “would you like to come in? Have some lemonade?”

“That would be lovely, wouldn’t it Cassie?” Beverly asked, and Cassie nodded shyly. 

Natasha opened the door wider, stubbly double tapping the bracelet on her left wrist to deactivate all hologramed files in the house. She had left a few things up in the kitchen, and even if they were only cooking recipes, it would still seem strange to have highly advanced Stark Industries tech in her kitchen. 

“So, where does your husband work?” Beverly asked, and Natasha nearly rolled her eyes. Of course the first thing she wants to talk about is Steve.

“He’s the CEO at a renewable energy company that just moved here from DC, so we relocated with it,” Natasha lied seamlessly. Romana wriggled her legs, and Natasha set her on the ground, still keeping her hand firmly wrapped around the smaller one. She opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of lemonade and retrieved three glasses from the cupboard. “We actually adopted Romana from Russia.”

“Oh, you couldn’t have children of your own?” Beverly asked, voice full of fake sympathy.

“Cancer. Had a hysterectomy a few years back,” Natasha lied. It wasn’t _exactly_ a lie, it just wasn’t the whole truth. 

“Oh, you poor thing! I’m glad you got Romana, she’s such a pretty little girl.”

Natasha had to grip her teeth to keep from making a face. Why was she suddenly so protective of this child she’s had only twenty-four hours? Why does she feel so strangely jealous of this perfect woman with her perfect child and her perfect, one hundred percent real, life? “Yes, she is.” Natasha smiled and handed them their cups of lemonade. 

They talked for a little while, Natasha’s gun in easy reach the whole time. Romana went from playing with the nesting doll on the floor to sitting on Natasha’s lap, playing with her arrow necklace and silky hair. Natasha liked the warmth of the baby against her chest, likes the way the small child already seems to trust her. Soon enough, the neighbors left, and Natasha collapsed on one of the off white velvet couches, exhausted. Romana sat on her stomach. Who knew talkative, nosy mothers could be so damn nosy?

Romana made a high pitched noise that sounded somewhat like a giggle. Natasha found herself laughing a little, too. Natasha tentatively raised her hand to the baby’s face and swept a thumb along her soft cheek. Romana leaned into it, one small hand fisted in Natasha’s shirt, and other clinging to her wrist. 

“You’re starting to grow on me, malyshka,” Natasha said, half to herself. Romana babbled happily in return, and Natasha let out a quiet huff of laughter. “Can you understand me, or is my mind playing tricks on itself?”

Romana took both her hands and put them on Natasha’s face, looking deep into her eyes. She smiled her little, toothless smile before collapsing onto Natasha in a fit of giggles. 

“What’s so funny, silly girl?” No response came from the baby, just a faint gurgling and a kick to Natasha’s stomach. “Oh, I see how it is!” 

Natasha flipped them over, laying Romana on her back and tickling her stomach. She blew raspberries into the baby’s skin, played with her like she had seen countless other mothers do. This was all new and kind of scary, but it was just a temporary thing. Everything was going to be okay.

It was three in the afternoon when another set of people rang her doorbell, this time a husband and wife. They gave her cupcakes and welcomed her to the neighborhood before leaving, and Natasha would be lying if she said she wasn’t relieved they didn’t come in. When Steve finally came home around six, she breathed a such of relief and handed him Romana. 

“Fun day, Romanoff?” 

“You could say that. There are some baked goods from the neighbors in the kitchen,” Natasha replied.

“Ah, we got visitors?” Steve asked, quirking a little smile as he undid his tie. 

Natasha groaned in response. “So many. So, so many. How long as it been? I’m ready to go back home.”

“Only been a day, Nat. Fury said at least three months,” Steve said, placing a kiss on Romana’s head.

Natasha flopped on the couch and groaned. 

After dinner, Natasha changed Romana into a soft onesie with puppies on it, which delighted Romana. It took a good hour to get her to sleep, with both her and Steve singing or rocking her or bouncing her up and down. Thankfully, she went down and didn't wake back up. Natasha stood up from the drib, only to come face to face with Steve, their noses inches apart. A blush dusted Steve’s face in the pale, yellow glow from the lamps outside.

“Who do you want me to be?” Natasha asked in a low voice, a hand coming up to rest on Steve’s chest. Her heart thundered in her check, and though she’d never admit it, her stomach felt like butterflies were biting at its lining. 

“How ‘bout a friend?” Steve asked, smiling softly. 

“There’s a chance you’re in the wrong business Rogers.” She dragged her words out like caramel dripping from an apple, like rolling cookie dough, like Hershey's kisses on a chilly autumn day. Steve thought he could gladly kiss her right here and now. Natasha thought that if she just raised herself a few inches, she might be able to brush her cherry red mouth against his cotton candy lips. She might melt to liquid gold, the lightest kind of Midas touch. 

But she pulled away, trailing a hand down his arm as she went. He didn’t follow her when she went downstairs to make read through SHIELD files, didn’t follow her when she went running on the treadmill in the broom closet beside the sunroom, didn’t follow when she cast an intentionally soft glance into his crystal clear blue eyes before heading to her bedroom. 

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed.

Steve didn’t sleep. He wanted to look at the stars, he had always loved them. He found Natasha passed out on the gazebo bench outside, headphones still playing faint music. He shook his head and smiled because this running into gunfire girl, the blazing red assassin, slept and looked ten years younger because of it. Steve picked her up as gently as he could, scooping arms under legs and behind back. He carried her upstairs, her weight feeling like nothing in his superhuman arms. Foot hit a squeaky board, and Romana turned audibly in her sleep. In a moment, Steve carried on to Natasha’s room at the end of the hall (but only after he was sure Romana was fast asleep, not wanting a repeat of last night). 

He had been in here before, but only briefly. The room sang of muted luxury, not at all like the rest of the house. It was all glossy red and crystal lights, black velvet duvet and a bunch of fake roses here and there. He suddenly felt like he got the short end of the stick in the home decor department. He laid the sleeping spy’s body on the bed, lingering a moment to watch her peacfully sleeping face. She was still wearing the day’s worries in the creases of her eggshell smooth skin, and he found himself wishing he could kiss them away. But no, he thought. This was Natasha Romanoff, a bright star among darkness, a torch to overshadow all other torches. She would never, not in a million years want a man like Steve. He got up, reaching for a fluffy throw to cover her body despite the seventy-degree air. Steve sighed, moving to leave when a small hand gripped his wrist like an iron shackle. Blue eyes stared into bluer ones, the former drugged with sleep, the ladder never more awake. Steve’s heart jumped, Natasha’s scarlet lips and cherry pink cheeks flushed in the hot humidity tantalizing him. God, when did he become like this? 

“I-” Steve started, clearing his throat when the word came out embarrassingly choked.

“Don’t,” Natasha said hoarsely. “Don’t say anything.” She him down until their noses touched, both hardly daring to breathe. Steve thought her skin smelled like flowers, smelled like vanilla perfume, smelled like her room and the hoodies she leaves lying around the compound.

She silently pushed him away, crossing the room to her closet and retrieving a pair of red shorts before pulling off her sweats. Steve looked away, heat creeping up his face. He should be used to this by now. Natasha had stripped down and changed clothes in front of the team countless times, they all had. They were a family, and they needed to be comfortable with each other. Bu somehow, with the curtains blowing in the breeze of the open window, with shadows hiding half the world from his eyes, this felt different. He felt sure that Natasha had an ulterior motive here, using her body to manipulate him in some way she wasn’t aware of. She never does anything without a reason.

(he didn’t even stop to think that maybe she was just at ease with him, that there was no other reason at all besides the fact that she felt safe with him.)

Natasha turned back, smoothly and soundlessly coming over to Steve. Raising herself onto the balls of her feet and resting her hands on his shoulder, raising her lips to his ear. 

“Go to sleep, Rogers, we both need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DO NOT OWN OR TAKE CREDIT FOR THE 'who do you want me to be' DIALOGUE! i love that scene from the winter soldier and wanted to use it in my writing, but marvel still obviously owns it and shit.
> 
> also, the line "she might melt to liquid gold, the lightest kind of Midas touch" is a lyric from the song "butterflies" my samsa. it's such a good and funny song, go check it out if you have a couple minutes :)


	3. day five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha? soaked.
> 
> Steve? mischievous little shit.
> 
> hotel? trivago.

It had nearly been a week now, and everyone was starting to adjust to this new, temporary life. Neither of them had spoken of that late night in Natasha’s room, the tension ringing louder than a bell telephone. Natasha seemed unfazed, but Steve still felt his heart begin to race whenever Natasha got near him. Was it possible to psychologically manipulate someone into getting a crush on you? Natasha wouldn’t do that. To anyone else, maybe, but not her family. 

It was a sunday morning when Natasha slunk downstairs, oversized black sweater enveloping her.

“Did you take that from my closet?” Steve asked, looking up from his coffee.

“Maybe.” She ran and slipped a little into the kitchen, making Steve laugh. “What? It’s fun.”

“Oh, I’m not judging. I just haven’t seen you this...at ease, I guess, since we got here.”

Natasha climbed easily onto the counter to reach the cereal in the tallest cabinet. She opened the bad, settling herself on the marble top and began to eat dry honey nut cheerios out of the bag. “I’m getting used to the kid. I think we’re getting this parenting thing down better.”

“She sleeps through the night, so that's something to be thankful for.”

“Amen to that,” Natasha said before leaning over to pour a cup of coffee from the still warm pot.

They talked for a while before Romana started crying and Steve went up to get her while Natasha mixed up some formula and got out applesauce for breakfast. They had been instructed to start feeding her solids such as small pieces of fruit and mashed foods while weaning her off the formula milk. Though she was already developed enough to eat all solids thanks to her enhanced body, the scientists at the lab she had been kept at had her on a feeding tube through her stomach. It was vital that she learned how to eat, but everyone agreed it would be too difficult for them to try and teach her how to eat without her ever having used her mouth for food. Thankfully, she was still young enough that she picked it up quickly and didn’t have much trouble getting used to using her mouth. She had been overjoyed the first time she tried solid food in Helen Cho’s office, eating pumpkin flavored baby food. The look on her face had been captured on camera, and it was adorable. As a failsafe, they had a spot lined up at a feeding clinic if things went downhill. Romana would stay there and work with specialists to get used to eating normally (but it hadn't come to that yet, and Steve and Natasha were glad).

They sat at the table together as if they were a real family. Steve reading the paper, Natasha typing away at her laptop, both helping to feed Romana when she seemed to struggle. After breakfast, Steve bathed Romana (he insisted, feeling guilty that Natasha had to do everything while he was at “work” all day). They came back down half an hour later, Romana in yellow shorts and a white tank top. She reached to Natasha, making distressed noises until her foster mother took her out of her foster father’s arms. Though Romana could walk and say a few words, she didn’t like to, preferring to be held and communicate with body language.

The day went by smoothly. Steve played with Romana under the shade of oak trees while Natasha tried to get the boat’s motor running. Ten minutes in, she went inside to change out of her skirt, grumbling about how you can’t do anything in clothes like these. She came back down in shorts and a t-shirt and resumed tinkering and prodding the engine. An hour later, the temperature had risen above a hundred degrees, Steve had taken off his shirt, and Romana was asleep in his arms. He might have nodded off briefly as well, but no one needed to know that. 

“It’s working,” Natasha announced, sitting back on her heels, the boat rumbling by her side. “Now, do you want to sink it or should I? Because this thing is more unstable than Stark.”

Steve laughed, getting to his feet. “How about together, just like old days?”

Natasha nodded, climbing into the less than clean boat. Steve followed, Romana now awake, head resting against Steve’s shoulder. 

“So if that’s the brake, then this should be the-oh!” the boat jumped forward, and Natasha frantically grabbed for the brake. The boat jolted to a stop, nearly tossing the spy out. “Okay, so maybe this isn’t my forte.”

“Yeah, you think?” 

They were about fifty feet from the dock now, eyes of a few neighbors watching them from the docks. “This is nice,” Natasha said optimistically. “It’s hot, there are probably alligators everywhere, I already have six mosquito bites...”

Steve shot her a good-humored glare.

“Kiss me,” she said suddenly. 

“What?”

“People are watching. We need to look like a couple.” Natasha leaned over and kissed him. He tasted like orange juice and she tasted like coffee. Her hands slid up his bare chest, Romana reaching up to play with Natasha’s hair from between them. They broke apart. “Hey, you.” She tapped Romana on the nose, making the baby giggle. “Do you think it’s gross when mommy and daddy kiss?” 

Romana, of course, didn’t respond. Steve just shook his head. Natasha’s hair was frizzing out of its ponytail, strands sticking to her sweaty skin. It was insufferably hot, the moisture of the air making it feel difficult to breathe. 

“You’re something else, you know that?” Steve smiled his lopsided, soft smile.

Natasha smiled back a little. For a second, Steve brought his hand up to brush along her cheek. Then, before Natasha knew it, she was tumbling over the boat, submerging in mossy, dark water. An undignified screech left her mouth, letting swamp between her lips. She surfaced to see Steve cackling, Romana making worried noises and pointing at Natasha in the water. 

“I am going to _kill_ you, Steven Grant Rogers!” Natasha seethed, just loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough for anyone else to hear. “It’s okay baby, mamas fine, everything’s okay,” she said, trying to soothe Romana who was growing rapidly more upset. “Good job, capsicle.”

“Sorry,” Steve said, not looking very sorry.

Natasha rolled her eyes and began to swim to the dock, not wanting to risk tipping the boat by getting back in. She felt Steve’s eyes on her as she boosted herself up onto the weathered boards, perfectly aware of the way her soaking wet clothes clung to her body.

“Like what you see, Rogers?” She smirked.

“I think you lost a flip flop, Romanoff,” he replied, avoiding the question and clearing his throat. 

Natasha cursed, spotting the sandal ten feet away from the boat, and even farther from the dock. She dove back in the bayou, cutting smoothly and silently through the water. Once the retrieved her shoe, she swam up to the boat, treading water.

“You got a little something on your-” Steve reached out, wiping some green plant off her forehead. He wrinkled his nose, holding the thing up.

“You know, it’s actually not that bad in here. You should come for a swim.”

“No thanks. Just tell me how to start this engine and I’m getting out of this swamp.”

“Pull the cord, step on the gas, and pray you end up somewhere near the dock.” Natasha dove back underwater, diving low before surfacing again a few feet from the dock. She had always loved swimming, and even though the bog wasn’t really ideal conditions to paddle around, it felt nice. Though she noted, as she climbed up on the dock, she was covered in various plants and bits of wet dirt (mud? It didn’t really look like mud. She didn’t want to think too hard about it). Oh well. She wrung the water out of her hair and watched Steve speed back to the shore, trying to hold Romana and steer the boat at the same time. Romana had cheered up seeing that Natasha was okay, but still wasn’t too happy with the whole situation. 

“I’m taking a shower to get all this,” she gestured to her swamp covered body, “off.”

“Have fun!” Steve called, climbing out of the boat. She flipped him off over her shoulder. 

She spent a long time under the old stream of water, not wanting to return to the hellish climate beyond her bathroom walls. Finally, she turned off the water when she saw the sky growing dark outside the frosted window. Emerging from the glass stall, Natasha wrapped her hair in a towel before walking out into her room, only to see Steve sitting against her headboard with Romana, reading a book. How Natasha hadn’t heard them, she didn’t know.

“Steve.”

Steve looked up. “Jesus, Tasha! Give me some warning!” He looked away, face turning red.

“Oh, you should be one to talk about warnings. You’re the one who just showed up here.” Natasha walked to her closet, sorting through the already open drawers, retrieving a loose white linen sundress. 

“Roma wanted you. I tried to tell her you were in the shower, but she wouldn’t stop crying until we came in here. I think it smells like you.” Steve was still staring at the wall.

“You can look now,” Natasha said after pulling the dress on.

Steve turned around. Natasha was drying her hair with the towel, a slight smirk crossing her face, so slight you might not be able to tell it was there if you didn’t know her well enough. She crossed the room again, settling on the bed next to Steve. Romana eagerly crawled to sit on Natasha’s lap. Steve sat rigidly beside her. 

“Relax. It’s just a body.” 

“It’s your body.”

“So?”

Steve didn’t respond. He noticed how perfectly smooth her slightly tanned legs were, too smooth to be human skin. He nearly reached out to touch it. “You’re just…”

“I’m what,” she deadpanned.

“You’re untouchable.”

“Not by you, Steve.” She turned, forcing their faces closer together. Noses bumped for the second time that day, breath bot against each other's skin, hot against the already blazing air around them. 

“Nat…”

Natasha’s phone rang loudly on the bedside table. Neither one of them moved. Romana clambered off Natasha to retrieve the phone. Natasha took it from her, picking up the call.

“Fury,” Natasha greeted, swiping the video up into hologram form.

“Agents, baby,” he acknowledged Romana, looking at the blue light in wonder. He continued, “ Hope I’m not interrupting anything,”

Steve cleared his throat. “Nope, we’re just talking.”

“Well, we just wanted to check in.”

They talked for a while, reviewing the events of the last few days, informing him of Romana’s apparent health, her eating habits, her developmental progress. Fury told them they had made slight progress on finding whoever experimented on Romana. They’ve heard rumors that it was HYDRA (of course it was, it’s always HYDRA), but they weren’t positive. Field agents were undercover finding out more as they spoke. After half an hour of going over information about the case, they said goodbye. Romana was asleep on Natasha, arms looped around her neck.

“I don’t want to move,” Natasha whispered. “It’s hard to get her to sleep, I think I’m stuck like this.”

“Yeah, looks that way doesn’t it? I’ll bring dinner up here.” He moved to get up, but Natasha grabbed his arm. Something about sitting in the dark alone seemed too scary for her own liking, especially when people were after her baby.

“Stay.”

“We need to eat, Nat.”

“Later. Don’t leave me alone up here,” she pleaded.

Steve sighed and settled back into the bed next to her. He silently handed her her laptop from the opposite night table. She opened it, plugging in earbuds and handing one to Steve. Opening Netflix, they watched House of Cards. It was the only show they both liked. Natasha loved drama and action while Steve preferred historical romances (you can imagine how much he loved Downton Abbey). Natasha watched Criminal minds, Making a Murderer, and occasionally The Bachelor (though she’s rather be skinned and then boiled alive then let anyone find that out). Steve watched Call the Midwife a _lot_ , like, a concerning amount, though lately, he had been branching into The Handmaid’s Tale. 

After a few episodes, they both fell asleep, Natasha’s head on Steve’s shoulder, his arm has somehow found its way around her shoulders. Sometime around midnight, Natasha woke up to Romana crying. Steve slept like a rock, so she didn’t wake him. She quietly detached herself from him, carrying Romana down to the kitchen. She set the baby on the counter as she warmed up a bottle of formula. In the meantime, she took some of yesterday’s leftovers out of the fridge. She ignored the rumbling of her own stomach, wanting to feed Romana and get the hell back to sleep.

“I know baby, I know,” She said, doing that bullshit little kid voice she couldn’t seem to turn off. She scooped Romana onto her hip, going over to the microwave to retrieve the previously cold mashed potatoes. Yawning, she fed Romana the potatoes while the formula warmed in the weird milk warmer. It looked like an upright MRI for a baby bottle. After eating, Natasha took her upstairs and changed them both into pajamas. She hesitated, wondering where she was supposed to go to sleep. She finally settled on crawling back in bed with Steve. It was hot enough that even wearing a light nightgown, she still had to sleep on top of the blankets. Romana settled between her and Steve, and within a couple of minutes, they were both asleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve's taste in TV shows is totally inspired by my mom's, she watched all of the handmaid's tale, call the midwife, and house of cards when the government shut down lol. It was terrifying how fast she went through them. natasha's TV taste is also totally inspired by mine. I love the bachelor, but i'll never admit it willingly.


	4. day six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the tension builds ;) excuse my limited knowledge of how babies act? my cousin is two so im basing everything off when we see her every one or two months. i dont have any little siblings. im the little sibling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this has taken me so long omg, I've been working on a lot of other projects. also, has anyone else seen endgame because HOLY FUCK????? no spoilers here tho if you haven't, don't worry. anyways, I'm going to be writing a lot more as a way to process it :'''''')

Steve woke up the next morning with his face in a pool of baby drool. He woke up face to face with the black widow. It took him a moment to remember how he and Natasha had fallen asleep last night. He noticed she had changed, meaning she got up, and then came back into bed with him intentionally. The thought made him blush. 

He looked around the room, looked at the early morning light filtering through the sheer curtains. It glanced off Natasha’s flame-red hair, illuminated her skin in patches. He tried to ignore the gentle curve of her breast under the thin silk fabric, tried to ignore the way it slid up enough that he could see a hint of her black lace underwear. He turned away, face hot. He shouldn’t think of her like this, especially when she isn't conscious enough to adjust herself to reveal less skin (though even if she were awake, he doubted she would move). So he stared at the ceiling, and when that got boring, he stared at his phone, and when he was bored with that, he got up and went on a run.

He changed into shorts and a T-shirt, texting Natasha that he would be back in an hour. It was only six in the morning, but it would be waiting for her when she woke up.

He ran through their neighborhood twice, three times, and it had only been thirty minutes. He stopped in a little park, taking a moment to breathe before doing step-ups on the bench. Soon enough, another man jogged by and stopped in the park. Steve ignored him but felt extremely conscious of the gun strapped to his leg under the baggy shorts. The man stared at him. Steve smiled awkwardly back. Finally, he took out an earbud and paused his music.

“Can I help you with something?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to stare. I was just wondering if you were new in the neighborhood, haven’t seen you before,” the man replied. “I’m Liam Smith, by the way. I live down Blackberry.” Liam gestured to a street behind them.

“Yeah, I am, actually. My wife Hillary and our baby girl just moved here. Sorry, I’m Aaron Mesa. Nice to meet you,” Steve said, sticking out his hand for the stranger to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Aaron. You know, I feel like I know you from somewhere. You been on the news lately?”

“No, you must be confusing me with someone else.” Steve was getting nervous. Anyone who realized their identity would be taken by SHIELD until they knew Romana was going to be safe. This man didn’t deserve to have his life turned upside down.

“Must be. Hey, my family is having a neighborhood get together pool party kind of thing this Sunday if you and your wife want to come. We’re the blue house with the range rover over there.” He pointed down Blackberry Lane again, this time indicating a specific house. 

Steve hesitated. On one hand, the more people they were around, the bigger a chance their cover would be blown. On the other hand, this was a wealthy neighborhood full of stay at home moms and dads. People were bound to get nosy if the Mesas never left their house. “Sounds fun, we’ll be there.”

“Great! Well, I’ll see you then! My wife, Layla, will be excited to meet you. She’s always looking for new members for her book club,” Liam said. 

Steve cringed at the thought of Natasha sitting in this guy’s living room, talking about the latest romance novel with eight other women. “I’ll mention it to her. Ah, I’ve gotta go. Almost time for work.” It wasn’t near time for work yet, but Steve wanted to get out of here before Liam recognized him for who he was. Maybe he should consider growing a beard or something. 

“Nice to meet you!” Liam called as Steve ran away. He threw the other man a wave over his shoulder and ran a little faster. 

When he got through the door, he was greeted by loud music. He frowned, following it to its source. In the kitchen, Natasha danced, pancakes and eggs solidifying on the stove behind her. Romana sat on the counter, entranced by her mom. To be honest, so was Steve. At a certain point, he recognized the song as Bossy by Kelis, a song frequently heard coming from Natasha’s bathroom in the compound while she showered. He caught himself smiling. She just looked so free, mouthing the words into the handle of the spatula, pausing occasionally to flip or stir the breakfast on the stove. Romana was giggling. Natasha turned and took her hands, moving them to the music. She fluidly switched from the dancing he had seen her do in clubs, in some of Tony’s crazier parties, to classical ballet, turning five times on the kitchen floor before lifting her leg out of the turn, then going back to moving her torso in a way that made her look liquid. The only reason she hadn’t noticed him yet was that her eyes were shut and the music was turned up loud enough to deafen the average person, even one who had to endure the amount of yelling in the avenger’s compound on a daily basis. Seriously, for a bunch of superheroes, they all got scared pretty easily. At this point, no one even spoke normally anymore. He’s pretty sure Sam and Clint haven’t said anything that wasn’t a shout in at least a month.

The song stopped, and Natasha turned to him. How she knew he was there, he didn’t know. The woman could have heard his heart beating and he wouldn’t be surprised. She showed no sign of shock at seeing him in the doorway, but a blush colored her already flushed cheeks even further. 

“I didn’t see anything,” he said, putting his hands up. “How’s my girl?” 

For a second, Natasha thought he was talking about her, but Steve crossed the kitchen to pick up Romana, who gurgled happily. Steve put his arm around Natasha’s shoulders, kissing his make-believe wife on the forehead without a second thought. Natasha froze. They didn’t need to pretend to be a couple behind closed doors, but she wasn’t going to complain. It was nice to have a husband and a baby, even if they were only children playing house. So she wound her arm around his waist, offering up her cup of coffee.

“Thanks. We got invited to a pool party next Sunday down the road, what do you think?”

“Might as well go, it won’t hurt to be seen in public a little more,” Natasha replied, looking over the steadily waking neighborhood. 

“Liam says his wife wants new members for her book club, so maybe you’ll make some friends,” Steve suggested with a chuckle.

Natasha swatted him on the arm. A book club. Yeah, right. Granted, she was bored out of her mind. She ran on the treadmill. She did her strength and conditioning routine. She showered. She watched TV. She made dinner. She did the exercises again. She played with Romana. Romana took a nap. Natasha folded laundry and watched more TV. She read books to Romana. She called Clint, and sometimes the other Avengers. The routine was horribly dull. She wanted to punch someone! She wanted to remember what it felt like to pull the trigger of a gun! She wanted to break bones and take the lives of the evil! Maybe it’s been less than a week, but god, it felt like forever. At least there was always paperwork she could be doing. 

When Steve got home every night, It felt like Natasha could breathe again. It wasn’t that she didn’t love spending time with Roma. She did. But it was difficult to be watching her and making lunch or dinner and doing everything else that needed to be done. She couldn’t look away for one second when someone was trying to hurt her baby. When Romana napped, Natasha had the baby monitor sync with her watch (Stark’s newest model, used by all the Avengers to monitor vitals, communicate, and everything else they need) so she could monitor her while she did other things. If there was _any_ movement in Romana’s room outside of the crib, alarms would go off to notify Natasha, Steve, Fury, Maria, and just about every SHIELD agent in the tri-state area. They had to turn off the system when they entered the room, but it would rearm itself in ten minutes if they forgot to turn it back on. 

“Take your kid. I have pancakes to flip,” She said, handing Romana to Steve, who gladly accepted her into his arms. 

Natasha cooked silently while Steve sat on the floor of the dining room playing with Romana. Occasionally, Natasha looked up, the laughter of her “family” putting a smile on her face. Soon enough, a stack of pancakes was piled on a plate, and a bowl of eggs was steaming on the counter. Natasha brought them into the dining room, doubling back to get plates and forks. As much as it bored her, being a housewife was kind of fun. She never got to take care of people before, never got to be responsible for a child and a husband. She liked it, as long as she could escape to run laps around the yard every now and then to burn off energy. Good thing Romana took most of it up.

“Food,” Natasha announced. 

Steve buckled Romana into her highchair and gave her eggs and a little pancake. He cut them up into tiny pieces so she wouldn’t choke, because “that’s what good parents go, Romanoff”. For a while, they ate in silence, occasionally showing each other a video on their phones, or making a comment about the news. Half of Romana’s breakfast was on the floor by the time Steve went upstairs to shower. Natasha picked Romana up out of the chair, settling her on her hip with one hand and bending down to pick up the spare egg and pancake with a napkin. 

“You are one messy baby, you know that?” Romana giggled. Natasha rolled her eyes. “Sure, it’s funny to you, but you don’t have to clean around here.”

Soon enough, Steve came downstairs dressed for work. Natasha followed him out the door, ever playing the loyal wife. She handed him a fresh cup of coffee before kissing him goodbye. He flushed but kept it together. She had to admit that she was blushing a little, too. They had never had any real kisses, only fake ones. On the escalator in new jersey, in the cafe in Vienna, on the little motor boat in their backyard. Natasha was getting tired of playing games. She was tired of the sultry looks and the subtle touch of hands when they didn’t think the other way paying attention, the silent invitation always waiting by Natasha’s bedroom door.

“Say bye bye to daddy,” she said in that stupid, high pitched little kid voice while waving Romana’s hand at Steve. Romana was much more interested in the person walking their dog on the opposite sidewalk. Natasha sighed, watching the black BMW pull away. It was the second car Fury left them, the SUV intended for transporting Romana (bulletproof and everything else you could think of), this smaller one for Steve to drive to and from work.

Of course, as soon as Steve was gone, Romana started to wail.

“Oh, baby, it’s going to be okay, daddy’s going to be back tonight. He’s at work, okay?” Shockingly, Romana seemed to calm down a little. “You’re something special, kid.”

Romana looked at Natasha as if saying, “of course i am!”. Natasha smiled and kissed the top of her baby’s head. A few neighbors were watching them from the street, more from windows. Natasha threw one kid a smile from across the street before turning and heading back inside. 

The day passed painfully uneventfully. They went outside and sat in the gazebo, then under the shade of the oak trees, then on the dock, staring up at the sky. By four, they were both dripping in sweat, so Natasha trudged upstairs and changed them both into swimsuits. Romana had a green striped one piece. Natasha had a black bikini with blood red trim. They went back downstairs, suffocating in the heat. This place sucked. 

But all was slightly more bearable once Natasha and Romana were in the cool shade of the oak trees, dangling their legs in the water. Airplanes hummed overhead, animals in the bayou buzzing. The neighbors’ kids were laughing next door. Everything felt so peaceful, and Natasha found herself imagining keeping this life she was never supposed to have. What if it could stay this way? What if every night, she and Steve would fall asleep in the same bed, wearing real rings (not the fake ones on their hands now). They’d wake up, and Steve would get Romana ready while Natasha made breakfast. They’d eat, then drive together to work, kissing each other goodbye as they headed off to their separate meeting and assignments. They’d trade Roma throughout the day, unwilling to trust her with daycare or babysitters. They’d come home and talk about work, talk about their days, talk about everything. They’d put Romana down, then watch a movie as they’d fall asleep. Everything would be different...but maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

She was jolted out of her daydream by Friday’s voice in the comm attached to her ear. 

“Agent Rogers is calling, Agent Romanoff, would you like to take the call?” the automated, but somehow kind, voice of the AI asked.

“Patch him through, Fri,” Natasha responded, holding her finger to the device to turn on the mic. 

“Hey, Nat, we’ve got an appointment with Cho tomorrow at the field office.” 

His voice comforted her in a strange way, like being wrapped in fluffy blankets fresh out of the dryer. “Okay, good.”

“I’m on my way home. I left early. I guess I missed our girl.” Natasha could hear the smile in his voice. Romana was paying close attention to the one side of the conversation she could hear. She made a few babbling noises that came close to ‘dada’. “Yeah, daddy’s on the phone.”

“Hi baby girl,” Steve cooed. Romana grinned, as much as a baby could. Maybe she has super hearing, too. Natasha rolled her eyes. Eight months old, and her kid could already do more than Natasha herself. “Okay, I’m about to get on the freeway. See you soon.”

“bye, Aaron.” 

The name felt foreign on her lips. She’d never even met a man named Aaron before, and now she’s supposed to be married to one. Since Steve would be home in around twenty minutes, Natasha decided that both of them needed to be cleaned. And then it hit her-she could put Roma in the carrier sling, strap her on Nat’s chest, and then they could both take a shower at once. Fucking genius. She should start a mom lifehack channel on youtube. 

Excited to try out the new idea, Natasha gathered herself and her baby (who was playing with a lizard she somehow got a hold of) and rushed upstairs. 

“Okay, kid, you’re gonna need to cooperate with me here,” Natasha told Romana, who ignored her in favor of looking at the flower on her swimsuit. “I’ll take that as a ‘sure mom’.”

Natasha layed Romana on the bed and undressed her, before stripping off her own bikini. After a few seconds of fumbling, she managed to strap the carrier around her waist. How was the baby supposed to get in, while the adult was buckling the straps, and not fall?

“Friday, give me some help here,” Natasha asked of the AI, who resided in little pods around the house.

“I would suggest laying on the bed, placing the baby on top of you, and then buckling the straps.”

Good idea. 

Thankfully it worked. Natasha stood up, only a little lightheaded, and went into the bathroom. Once the shower spray was warm, they stepped in, closing the glass door behind them.

 

Shockingly, it went well. After Natasha had washed her body, she took Romana out and bathed her as well. Once again, the idea of a mom life hack youtube channel crossed her mind (or maybe she was just going stir crazy). The system wasn’t flawless, but they did well with the options they had. 

Twenty minutes later, they were dressed and downstairs. Romana, now fascinated with the stripes on her romper, sat on the counter while Natasha ordered a pizza. Steve arrived a minute later. 

“Hey, Nat,” Steve called. 

“How was your day?” 

“Could have been better. Yours?” he entered the kitchen, pulling Natasha into a side hug before going to pick up Romana. 

“We need to talk about alternating childcare weeks.”

“That boring, huh?” he smiled, baby in his arms. 

“you take a turn being a stay at home dad next week and tell me how you feel.” 

“You’ve got a point. We’ll run it by Fury tomorrow.”

“Thank god. I love her, but I’m this close to throwing her against the wall.” Natasha put her thumb and index finger together.

“Your fingers are touching.”

“Exactly.”

They ate pizza on the couch and watched the fault in our stars. Steve cried several not so silent tears, and then Romana started crying because Steve was crying, and then Natasha started crying because being a mom was making her a little crazy.

(she isn’t a mom, though. It had been easy to forget that she wasn’t Romana’s real mom, not even her adoptive mom, hard to remember Steve wasn’t her real husband. It was all an act and nothing more. That hurt like a bitch to think about, but it was the truth.)

“Friday, play Mean Girls,” Natasha commanded through a sob (tears>crying>sobbing=chain of events when you have a kid in the house). 

“No! We need to see how it ends,” Steve protested. 

“You read the book, Rogers! The guy dies!”

“I know! Don’t remind me!”

Natasha rolled her eyes, wiping away her tears. “We’re watching mean girls.”

Steve didn’t argue. 

She must have fallen asleep because one minute Regina George was playing soccer, and the next Natasha was being shaken awake. 

“Come on, Nat, you’ve got to go to bed,” Steve murmured. 

Natasha rubbed her eyes. “Where’s my kid?” 

“Asleep. Get up.” 

Natasha stood up, eyes slipping shut. She swayed, and Steve looped an arm around her. Together, they stumbled through the house, up the stairs. Natasha had woken up by the last step. She yawned and detached from Steve, walking sleepily to her bathroom. 

She turned on the tap, bent down to splash water on her face. When she looked up, she met Steve’s eyes in the mirror.

“Rogers.”

“Romanoff.”

Natasha felt his gaze, watching, waiting. She brushed her teeth and braided her hair, finally setting down the hairbrush and turning around. 

something hummed in the air, like the feeling right before a thunderstorm. something was about to happen, and they both knew it. 

Maybe it was the late hour, or maybe it was the shocking amount of tension that had been building up in this house for the last week, but all she could think about was kissing him. 

She was a spy, she knew how much he wanted to kiss her too. 

Strange how body language can speak louder than any voice, but people hardly notice it. 

Just the way Steve relaxed around her spoke volumes. Sometimes, Steve would forget what he was doing and start playing with her hair, or trace patterns on her skin. the kisses on her cheek or forehead when they both lapsed into their married alter egos didn’t feel so fake. The kisses on the lips felt even more real, as if when she opened her eyes, she wouldn’t be a spy, but a mother and a wife. 

All that made Natasha rise up on her toes and press her lips to Steve’s, rest her hands on his chest. 

His arms snaked around her after a moment, pressing her body closer to his. He tasted like watermelon on a hot summer's day, skin burning at Natasha’s touch. How was he always so warm? He ran warmer than anyone Natasha had ever met.

But she liked it, because she always seemed to feel cold. 

“Nat...we shouldn’t.” Steve pulled away. 

“Why not?” She asked, gazing up into his eyes, her face asking more questions than her voice. 

“It’s late,” he said, voice cracking. “You aren’t thinking straight. You’ll regret it.”

“I want this, Rogers. I think you want it, too.”

Something changed in the expression on his face. "I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sksksk okay I KNOW that realistically steve and nat wouldn't go to work and they wouldn't go to parties and they would be recognized as avengers pretty fast but I am living vicariously through them so leave me be, please  
> (and if this was just a day by day of them taking care of roma it would be boring as hell. i'm doing this for yall)


	5. New York, New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve, Nat, and Romana go back home for a few days.  
> bad rushed chapter bc i feel back about not posting for a month. heads up, i didnt read through this or edit it at all before i posted. i just wanted to get it online

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry ive dropped off the face of the earth, i was in rehab. im home now tho. ffh was WILD. i got my nose pierced. ive talked my parents into getting me (another) dog in the near future.

She hurried back to Romana’s room and picked her up off the floor. They were flying back to New York today for a full debriefing and more tests on Roma. they’d be gone a week. Not much new intel had come up about Roma’s captors, and Fury estimated that they would be in hiding for another month at least. 

Natasha tossed clothes in a suitcase for Romana. She had already packed, but Steve was struggling to pull himself together downstairs. They would take all personal items. They might have to stay in New York.

Natasha zipped up the suitcase and grabbed the baby. She threw the suitcase downstairs before careening down after it. 

“Rogers, the flight leaves in an hour!” Natasha picked up the suitcase and took it outside to the car. She balanced Romana on her hip and loaded the bag in the back of the SUV. “Aaron! We’ve gotta go!”

Steve came through the door with two duffel bags. Natasha bucked Romana in and got in the driver's seat. Steve threw his bags in the trunk, slammed it shut, and tumbled into the seat next to Natasha. Natasha already had the car started, and backed out of the driveway. 

Forty seven minutes and counting to get on their flight. 

Natasha sped down the highway. Thankfully, it was nearly empty. Not many people were commuting at three in the morning. 

She pulled into the terminal. Steve went to check their bags and print their tickets while Natasha parked. Natasha skidded into a spot and rushed to get Romana and the carry on. They really needed to manage their time better. 

Natasha locked the car and hurried to the airport. Unconsciously, she touched the gun at her hip. A security detail was waiting inside, and no one would try to attack them in a couple hundred feet to the building.

Right?

Natasha ducked her head and held Romana closer to her chest. Once she was inside, she found Steve and came towards him. 

“Everything okay, Romanoff?” 

Natasha nodded. “It feels wrong to be out in the open with her. I want to get to the tower. Fast.” 

Steve nodded his agreement and wrapped an arm around Natasha. He kissed her on the head. It had been a while, but Natasha was still not used to the unprompted displays of affection from the soldier. They were real now, and she didn’t mind them at all. She sat close to Steve, held his hand, sought comfort from him. She had never done that before. 

Steve was still marveling at the fact that he could kiss Natasha Romanoff in a non-work context. His baby, no matter how temporary, had started calling him Dad and Natasha mama. It was more like “dah and mmm”, but she got the point across just fine. Now, Romana reached toward him, and Natasha handed her over. 

They went through security, flashing their SHIELD credentials. They had been cleared to carry weapons on the plane by the attorney general because it concerned a matter of national safety. It made Steve’s head hurt to think that this baby was not just a baby, but a part of something much bigger.

Steve didn’t want that life for her. 

They boarded their plane and landed in new york within the hour. Clint met them at the baggage pick up, and Steve watched him gravitate towards Romana like she was metal and he was a magnet. Natasha passed her over to Clint, who was fawning over the kid. He hugged Natasha, and even though Steve knew they were just friends, he felt a humiliating pang of jealousy. They looked right together, with a baby between them. 

Steve shook it off and went to get their suitcases.

Clint brought the car around, and they piled in. 

“God, it feels good to be able to call you Steve in public again,” Natasha muttered. “Steve. Steven. Rogers. Captain America. Man who does not have a secret identity.”

“I don’t know, Hillary, maybe we should just keep these names.”

Natasha swatted him. “Cut that out.”

Steve laughed, and Romana giggled with him from her car seat. Once again, Natasha wondered if she could understand what they were saying. 

“Or what?”

Natasha didn’t answer, but the glint in her eye told Steve that it was not something she could say in front of a child. 

Natasha fell asleep with her head on Steve’s shoulder on the ride to the tower. Steve’s arm was around her shoulders, and he ran his fingers through her hair. How did she get it to be so soft? They used the same shampoo, and yet, her hair was ten times smoother than Steve’s had ever been. 

“It’s coconut oil,” Clint said suddenly. 

“What?”

Clint smiled softly. “She puts coconut oil on her hair, that’s why it’s so soft. In case you were wondering.”

Steve smiled back. “Yeah, I was.”

“So, are you two keeping this a secret or can i spill the beans?” 

“What-how did you know?”

“I’m her best friend, Cap. i can tell when she’s in love. I can tell when someone else loves her, too.”

Clint made eye contact with Steve in the rearview mirror. Steve looked away, glancing down to Natasha. He didn’t say anything, and the weight of the conversation hung heavy in the air. 

“I never thought she’d want me,” Steve said half to himself.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about Natasha.”

The conversation felt over, and Steve was right. Clint slipped a pair of headphones on, and before he knew it, Steve was asleep. 

Natasha woke as they pulled up in front of the tower. Steve and Clint were already taking their bags out of the trunk. Natasha slid across the seat and unbuckled Romana. After a moment’s consideration, she put the puffy little down jacket on her baby. It was unusually cold today, and Natasha herself was regretting the shorts and blouse she had worn. In Louisiana, the heat had worn through even the thinnest fabrics. 

Natasha picked Romana up and got out of the car.

“Look who’s awake,” Clint said with a smirk. 

Natasha glared at him, too tired to do much else. 

“Tasha, you should get inside. We’ll bring the bags in.”

Natasha tried to hide the baby, but it wasn’t much use. She got inside and scanned her badge as fast as she could. 

“Agent Natasha Romanoff, clearance level: ten. Romana Romanoff Rogers, clearance level: blank.” the monotone voice was not Friday. She only operated on floors ten and above. Stark had security bots for the lower levels. 

Wait. had the AI said Romana Romanoff Rogers? When was that decided?

Nat was a question for later, Natasha decided as she speed-walked to the private elevator. Again, she scanned her badge, cornea, and fingerprint. She relaxed for the first time in five hours once she was safely in the elevator. Nothing and no one could infiltrate Avengers tower. Her baby was safe.

It only took a minute to get to the penthouse level. She could hardly glance around her home before she was swarmed by the Avengers. Wanda hung back, and so did Bucky. Natasha suspected he was waiting for Steve; the Winter Soldier had never forgiven himself for almost killing Natasha on, like, seven different occasions. Did Natasha hold it against him? No. it hadn’t been his fault. But he did make her a little nervous.

Steve trusted Bucky. That meant Bucky was safe.

Natasha handed Romana to Pepper and went to the kitchen. She made some coffee and dumped in a couple shots of vodka.

“It’s five o'clock somewhere,” Sam Wilson said from behind her.

Natasha set down the coffee and flung her arms around her friend. “Alcohol is timeless, Wilson. Kids are hard work, and mommy needs something to get her through this debriefing.” Natasha lapsed into a baby voice towards the end there.

“Oh, so we’re talking about mommy in the third person now?”

“The rhythm really catches on!”

Steve showed up in the kitchen a minute later. He made a beeline for Natasha’s coffee and took a huge sip.

“That’s got-” Steve spit the drink back into the cup. “Vodka,” Sam warned too late.

“Really? This early?”

“Yes, Steven.” Natasha took the cup back and drank it. Sam shouted something unintelligible and Steve made a face. Natasha rolled her eyes. “I’ll be unpacking.”

Natasha snuck to her room, wanting to avoid the team. She needed some space to adjust to this. 

She had put all her things back and was making her bed when Steve appeared in the doorway.

“You okay?”

Natasha nodded. “You?”

“Yeah.”

Steve walked over and wrapped his arms around Natasha. She sighed into his chest. Only six AM, but the day felt like it had gone on forever. 

“Is it weird that I miss Louisiana,” Natasha half stared half asked. “I mean...that life, even if it was a lie, was pretty good. I missed everything back home of course, but I love Roma, and I love you.”

She could feel Steve’s heart speed up, so she raised herself in the balls of her feet and kissed Steve to feel it beat faster. One of his hands pressed the small of her back while the other drifted lower. Natasha pressed herself more against Steve, making sure he could feel the warmth of her body. She bit his lip, and he moaned. His hand drifted to tangle in her hair while his lips trailed down her throat. Natasha tipped her head back, eyes fluttering shut.

“Hey, porn stars, your kid wants you,” Sam shouted from the other room. Natasha groaned. 

“Later,” Steve promised.

“Later,” she agreed. 

~

The day passed quickly. They took Romans’ to the doctor and updated Furt on everything that had happened. fury looked worried, but wouldn’t elaborate. 

“Keep your kid close, Agent Romanoff. There’s more to this case than you know.”

As she and Steve left Fury’s office, she turned back. “Romana Romanoff Rogers? We didn’t talk about that, Nick.”

Fury smirked. “What else would we call her?”

Natasha chuckled, but a warmth grew in her chest. Romana. Romanoff. Rogers. 

her baby. 

her daughter.

~

It was ten when Roma finally went to bed. Her crib was in Steve’s room, which was conveniently next to Natasha’s. Natasha collapsed into bed and waited for Steve to get out of the shower. 

He came out with a towel around his waist, and Natasha grinned. 

“Friday, lock the door and fog the glass.” 

The AI didn’t respond but obeyed Natasha. Steve raised his eyebrows. Natasha looked at him innocently, knowing fully well that her white nightgown betrayed the lace she wore beneath. 

“What? I wouldn’t want anyone to disturb us while we’re...sleeping.” 

Steve laughed but sat on the bed beside Natasha. She put down her phone and climbed on his lap. She felt his heartbeat leap and heard his breathing quicken in response. She loved the effect she had on him. 

“Tasha…”

Natasha kissed him desperately. She didn’t want to lose their family. He resisted at first, but after a minute gave in. His hands ran along her body, rubbing bruises into her thighs, but she didn’t care.

She liked the marks he left on her. 

For the second time that day, Steve dragged his teeth down her neck, sucking and biting on the pale skin in a way that sent shivers down Natasha’s spine. 

“Fuck,” she muttered. “Fuck, Steve, fuck, don’t stop…”

Steve lifted her nightgown over her head with shaking hands. Though he’d seen her naked before (accidentally, but whatever) he still exhaled sharply. Natashas bra and underwear were sheer and trimmed with red lace that Steve couldn’t seem to take his eyes off. 

“Fuck, Nat, you’re perfect.”

“Language, Rogers,” Natasha purred. 

Without warning, Steve flipped her over and pinned her arms above her head.

“Don’t get sassy with me, Romanoff.”

“Or what?”

Steve crushed his lips to hers once again. He still tasted like coffee and vodka, but then again, so did she. She broke away from him and flipped them again. She liked being in control. 

The towel around his waist was coming loose, and at some point, Natasha’s bra came off, but she didn’t care. Steve had one hand at her waist and one cupping her ass. Of course, as soon as they were both getting to the point where maybe no clothes were needed at all, someone knocked on the door.

“Natasha? The baby is awake,” Wanda called. 

They froze. Natasha sighed heavily. “Well, this is over.”

Steve started to protest (“maybe we can just let Wanda deal with it!). But Natasha was already putting a robe on. “Put your dick away, Captain. We don’t want to scar anyone for life."

Steve rolled his eyes and slipped under the blankets just as Natasha opened the door.

Romana looked at Natasha with wide eyes. “Thanks, Wanda.”

“Um...any time,” Wanda said with a slightly pained smile. She went back to her room a little too fast, leaving Natasha with Romana.

Natasha looked around in confusion. Then she remembered the towel and other various items thrown on the floor, the bruises on her neck, and the makeup which was probably smeared all over her face by now. She looked at Steve, and they both burst out laughing.

They settled into bed with their baby between them, still trying to catch their breath from laughing so much.

“Poor kid,” Natasha muttered.

“She’ll never be able to erase that from her mind. Once I almost walked in on Tony and Pepper. i didn't see anything, thank god, but the noises were-”

Natasha shoved him, and he tumbled off the bed. Romana launched herself after him, and Natasha after Romana, so they all ended up on the floor. 

Maybe Friday took a picture of that. and maybe she printed it. and maybe, just maybe, Steve kept that picture in his wallet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway to wrap the first note up i was in rehab for anorexia but yeah im back now, i have a much bigger appreciation for alcohol and being super drunk, and i want a baby.  
> what tf else is new?


End file.
